


The price you pay

by Rose_Nightshade



Series: We admit we’ve made mistakes [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Also it's implied Roy was blackmailed into non-con things in the past, Blackmail, Fanart, I also drew an illustration for the fic that's posted in it :D, M/M, Roy doesn't actually DO anything to Ed I promise, Roy doesn't mind if Ed hates him as long as he can keep Ed safe, Roy has some creepy impure thoughts for a second though, Sort of blackmail but really more like fake blackmail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:45:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Nightshade/pseuds/Rose_Nightshade
Summary: He’d come to the Colonel’s office at his request, after hours, with the promise of a report indicating a possible lead, then when he’d arrived, found Mustang alone, drinking at his desk.The Xingese appearing Amestrian man had then more or less implied Edward would be expected to provide ‘payment’ in exchange for the promised report.(You know all those fics where Roy blackmails Ed into doing dubiously or non-consensual sexual things? THIS ISN'T THAT. Even though its what it looks like.)





	The price you pay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BuckTheRules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckTheRules/gifts), [Nalanzu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalanzu/gifts).



> (You know all those fics where Roy blackmails Ed into doing dubiously or non-consensual sexual things? THIS ISN'T THAT. Even though its what it looks like. Also just as a note, I love those fics so like, this isn't my sarcastic answer to them or anything. Just a 'what-if' sort of take? I guess? )
> 
> Also I like making Roy miserable because fictional emotional suffering IS MY PB&J!!!
> 
> TEN MILLION THANK YOUS TO Nalanzu FOR BEING MY BETA~!!!!

Roy’s dark eyes watched the war taking place behind Edward’s blazing gold with sharp interest, his own face carefully placid, features edged in expectation.

This was a test. 

It was a test that he himself had failed, and one he hoped the Fullmetal Alchemist wouldn’t. One that he would not _permit_ him to fail. It was a lesson Roy would teach the young boy even if it left scars on them both, even if it bred more hate in the young heart than it likely already harbored for the Colonel. 

So Roy waited. And he watched. 

He watched as impassively as he could while Edward Elric must have been asking himself a million silent, furious, tortured questions. Each likely worse than the one preceding it. Roy could imagine some of them. Ones that had plagued his own mind, years in the past. 

_Do I disobey? Is he SERIOUS? What are the consequences if I DO refuse? How much worse could it be than this? Than what’s being asked of me? Is the information he’s promising me worth it? Will this set a precedent?_

Eventually, some decision made, the boy, both hands now in fists, took first to one knee, then sank down on the other, kneeling upright in front of him. The bottom of his stark red coat settled with a quiet rumple of fabric on the thin carpet, the leather of his pants squeaking just slightly. But the molten gold never shied away for even an instant from the Colonel’s dark steady gaze. The fire in those eyes burned, _seared_ a brand of pain into Roy’s heart. 

They promised pain, retribution, and swore unending hate, all without a single word. 

A slow, obviously hesitant hand began to reach up towards the front of his blue trousers, towards his cavalry skirt, the defiant eyes finally dropping, fixating on the hem of his pants where they were tucked into his black boots, but more importantly, no longer meeting the Colonel’s. 

Edward had failed the test, just as Roy had in the past. He wouldn’t allow it to break Edward, though, not in the manner that he had been broken.

 

His heart clenched, then beat faster, blood rushing through his veins. The tiniest thread of desire lanced through him, an unexpected razor followed instantaneously by nausea and self revulsion. For a half of a second, for one heartbeat, he had considered _letting_ him, thought about what it _might_ be like, thought of how the contrasting warm and cold hands might feel-

Roy’s stomach churned and acid clawed its way up his throat. He wouldn’t become what he despised. He might PRETEND at being a stoic, cold, manipulative, and selfish military lapdog, but wouldn’t actually transform into that type of predator. He would be better. 

 

Nothing of what he felt showed on his face. 

An automail hand was about to touch the blue wool of his uniform, fingertips less than centimeters away. 

He stepped back.

“Stop. Get up, Fullmetal. That’s quite far enough.” Roy hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so harsh, to come out so rough, but it had anyway. The anger was directed entirely at himself, though Edward wouldn’t have known that.

Shining and confused amber eyes jerked up to look at Roy’s face again, shadowed partially by his bangs. Edward was clearly perplexed, which was to be expected. 

He’d come to the Colonel’s office at his request, after hours, with the promise of a report indicating a possible lead, then when he’d arrived, found Mustang alone, drinking at his desk.

The Xingese appearing Amestrian man had then more or less implied Edward would be expected to provide ‘payment’ in exchange for the promised report. 

And after Edward had feigned confusion - and offense - Mustang had very casually reminded him that dogs of the military - even State Alchemists - were expected to obey superior officers without question, under penalty of court martial. 

He’d then ordered him, this time in no uncertain terms or difficult to interpret language, to get on his knees and… perform oral sex on him.

Only to now be told to stop as he was about to - albeit extremely grudgingly - comply. 

Color filled the round tan cheeks immediately, embarrassment finally taking up residence alongside fury, painting his face nearly as red as his coat. 

“What the _fuck?!_ Do you want me to... to... DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THIS OR NOT, YOU BASTARD?!” Frustration did nothing to prevent the blond from leaping to his feet, however. 

“No. I don’t. Nor should you. You should never obey this sort of order. You’d do well to remember that in the future, Fullmetal.” 

“ _WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU TELL ME TO DO IT FOR, THEN?!_ ” The reply was more a screech than it was words. 

Roy barely kept his eye from twitching in irritation at the tone and sheer _volume_. He’d brought this situation and reaction upon himself. He wouldn’t make it any more difficult for Edward than necessary. That wasn’t the point. 

“Take it as a lesson. Not all commands should be obeyed. Some things aren’t worth what they cost. I’d think you of all people should be able to understand that more readily than many. I would never in any seriousness ask something of that nature of you. Nor should anyone else. If anyone in the military attempts to do so, inform me immediately, and rest assured I will take care of the matter.” Roy grabbed up the copy of the promised report from the surface of his desk, whipping it between the two of them as if the paper barrier could make any difference in regard to what had almost transpired. 

As if giving the boy the document he’d promised would fix anything, as if Roy hadn’t already turned the situation into a nightmare. No matter what he did at this point, Roy had lost Edward’s trust and any potential for his friendship. But if that was the cost required in order to teach the young alchemist what price he should _not_ pay, and make him _remember_ , then it was well worth it. 

 

“You could have… just… fuckin’ _said_ that, you shitty goddamned Colonel!” Every word out of Ed’s mouth came laced with venom, spit past flushed cheeks through a tense scowl, the rank in particular sounding like a violent curse.

“Words alone sometimes aren’t enough. I’d think you’d comprehend that as well.” He kept his voice even and calm in reply.

It was much better to find out now the true lengths that the boy was willing to go to in the effort to restore his brother and himself. Better to know that the boy was naive. Better to confirm that he deserved the dignity of being treated like an adult, even if he was still a child, if he was willing to go to such debasing lengths to accomplish his goals. Much better to know that he _did_ need to be protected if he was going to survive in the world of adults he would soon - if not already - find himself drowning in. 

It would be a fine line to walk with a subordinate as volatile, unpredictable, and insubordinate as Edward, but. The cost for Fullmetal if he failed, and the young alchemist was transferred to serve under another, less scrupulous commanding officer... It was better to pay with this loss, now, and sacrifice the opportunity to become a mentor, or a friend, than to let Edward pay a much much steeper price alone. 

Roy straightened the sleeve of his uniform, face remaining carefully blank and calm after a gloved automail hand snatched the report from his grasp as though Edward feared the offer would be withdrawn. 

“If you say anything to Al-“ The paper of the report wrinkled under metal digits as he clenched his fist on the edge. 

“If I were interested in committing suicide, I’m aware of much less painful methods than informing your brother of.... various situations you might have found yourself in, Fullmetal.” He gave a small sigh. “I’ve no inclination to mention a word of this to anyone, ever, and that wasn’t my intent. It was only to teach you a lesson, privately, so that you could learn something essential, I hope.” 

“All I fuckin’ learned is that you’re just as much of a bastard as I figured.” Edward began shifting from one foot to the other, itching to run, or fight, and visibly unable to decide whether he was going to let his feet or fists take action.

Backing Edward Elric into a corner was not an advisable thing to do, and Roy knew he’d already taken more risks than were good for his health over the course of one evening. Especially with a certain short subordinate who was shorter tempered, skilled in hand to hand combat, and who’d recently been left feeling more than emotionally exposed by present circumstance of his divising. 

“You can go, Fullmetal.”

Almost before the last syllable had left his lips the blond was dashing out the office door practically at a run, red coat swirling behind him like a cape. A creak of hinges. The slam of a door. And then he was gone. Booted footfalls receding into silence down the hall outside the office. 

Roy sat back into his desk chair heavily, sighing out a long breath of tension, and swiveled back to face his desk. Picking up the highball glass resting there in front of him, still half full of whiskey, he downed it in one gulp, savoring the way the alcohol burned all the way down and warned him from the inside out. 

Sometimes it helped, to forget, to blur memories. To soothe aches and pains so old he sometimes couldn’t distinguish one from another. And other times it did not a damn thing.

There were a number of things that were too vivid to erase and much too stubborn to allow themselves to drown in a bottle. 

He contemplated the empty gleaming crystal in his gloved hand, not really seeing it. He was remembering the image of Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, the youngest in Amestris’ short history. A fearless prodigy, crippled by his own alchemical hubris, but resolutely determined to make right his mistakes, and clearly willing to do anything necessary towards that end. A _child_ , defiant eyes downcast in resignation, bowed by the authority he had over him.

It made him feel both powerful and utterly _sick_. This was one of the things he had to change about the military. The rampant history of abuse of power. And why he’d requested trusted friends to hold him accountable should that siren song ever outweigh the pull of his better moral judgment.

A different sort of metal than his subordinate’s automail flashed through his mind. 

Hawkeye’s gun. And his secondary self-imposed conscience. His accountability to become the man he wanted to be, had to be, in order to turn this country around, to make sure no others had to suffer the way he and his fellows had. No more atrocities like the slaughter they had called a “war” in Ishval. So that there would be no more _victims._

His third glass of whiskey, swallowed too quickly and not affecting his senses swiftly enough, didn’t help his queasy stomach. Not that he’d expected it to. The alcohol was a balm for his bitter memories and darker emotions, not his digestive tract. 

He wondered as he stared at the bottle on his desk, how much it would take until he could forget the look on Edward’s face. The resignation that he’d seen swirling behind the anger in those gemstone eyes. The expression of disbelief and betrayal when he’d asked of him words that felt like vomit in his mouth.

Roy wanted to apologize to the boy immediately, but knew it would do no good other than to soothe his own conscious. Not if he wanted the proper wariness and resentment that would manifest as a result of the incident to fully take root within Edward. 

Let Edward hate him, let him fear him. Let him always suspect his motives from now until the end of time. As long as he had learned the lesson he needed to, and Roy was able to keep him under his command and thus keep him protected from worse fiends. 

He could live with that. 

He poured himself another glass.


End file.
